


Bedtime Lullaby

by esperink



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Big Houses - Squalloscope, Gen, Singing, Songfic, Young Cecil, and now the weather, does this actually count as a songfic, probably, reposted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 02:35:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14203212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esperink/pseuds/esperink
Summary: Cecil's mother always used to sing him a lullaby before bed.





	Bedtime Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost from an old account. I didn't rewrite it, since I wanted to keep the original idea, but I edited it a little.  
> Not sure if that made it better or worse.

“Cecil! Bedtime!”

Cecil scampered inside the house and closed the door behind himself. He toed off his shoes and dirty socks, wriggling his toes freely before walking to his bedroom. He passed by his brother, who usually ignored him, doing homework on the kitchen table before stepping through the door frame of his bedroom. His mother was already starting to hum.

His mother smiled and pat the bed, and Cecil sat. she lifted a brush and started brushing his long hair, starting to sing:

_“Prayer is the bell jar,_

_You put over this goodbye.”_

She wrapped her arms around Cecil momentarily.

_“I’d rather leave this embrace between you and I…”_

Cecil closed his eyes and hummed happily along, letting his mother’s voice wash over him. His mother smiled as she picked up the brush, letting him go, and continued to move it through his hair.

_“…Let’s lock out the bearded old man in the nightgown_

_He can tap against the glass but I’m not coming out.”_

Tap, tap, tap.

_“I build bridges with these arms, I will not build a fortress_

_In the circle ‘round the kitchen table I say my ‘amen’ because I feel blessed…”_

Ms. Palmer put the brush aside and Cecil slid under his covers. He wriggled his toes under the blankets and watched his mother sing for a bit longer.

_“…Secretly hoping while we join hands you can’t feel my trembling fingertips…”_

She interlaced their fingers together.

_“If I sign this piece of paper do I sell my soul along with my duties?_

_We won’t put our money where your Catholic mouth is;_

_Even though the teeth are long gone there’s still bone beneath the gums_

_And there’s a lot of potential in a mighty, mighty organ…”_

Cecil closed his eyes as Ms. Palmer ran her fingers through her son’s hair. Cecil was drifting off now, and his mother smiled fondly at him. She glanced out the window, where the moon was illuminating the trees.

_“…And they told us not to clap, so we clap as loud as we can,_

_Because the reverb in these holy halls is like a long lost friend._

_He keeps on hitting the walls and comes all the way back, back again, back, back again…”_

She leaned over and kissed Cecil on the forehead. Her son was sleeping peacefully now. She stood and went to the window to look outside.

_“I want trees instead of gravestones, nothing to confess._

_I got a soft spot for your ancient books of horror stories,_

_I got a music in my head from long, long, ago and far, far away._

_And I still hum its tune, but how could I believe every word it says to me?”_

She saw the flickering figures in the empty lot across the street. She frowned, and glanced back at Cecil. He often liked to call them hooded figures, she remembered, but wasn’t sure they were hooded at all, instead something much more sinister.

She was worried.

_“We follow our own steps, while our shadows keep watching us,_

_The wrong step would be not to start this exodus.”_

She closed the curtains and walked towards the door. She cast one more glance at Cecil before turning off the light and closing the bedroom door behind herself.

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a comment on the song 'Big Houses' by Squalloscope (that I don't remember) and the song itself.


End file.
